


(It's All So) Incredibly Loud

by ravenstrange



Series: Save Tonight [6]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heartbreak, Hurt V, Hurt/Comfort, I really don't know what to tag this with, I was told to tag this as 'electrifying' so there you go, Porn With Plot, Soft Johnny Silverhand, Sort of song fic, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenstrange/pseuds/ravenstrange
Summary: In the distance, thunder cracks. The storm is building, threatening to break at any moment.For her, there’s no damn shelter.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Female V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: Save Tonight [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114709
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	(It's All So) Incredibly Loud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Era_Asha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Era_Asha/gifts).



> This fic goes with [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGKoTcbWAYE) (same as the title) and it's recommended you listen to this while you read it, but it's not at all required! Just might make things make a little more sense :)

She can feel his panic radiating off him in waves that threaten to drown her. It crashes against her own frustration, and she can feel the two of them fighting each other in a way they hadn’t in a long time.

“Johnny, you need to fucking calm down,” she hisses, her hand holding the wound to her collarbone closed, blood still escaping through the spaces between her fingers. “Gonna be fine.”

“Can tell you’re _not_ gonna be fine if you don’t stop that bleedin’ soon, V,” his voice hisses at her, glitching in and out of her view as she pushes past the crowd beneath the building’s ledge. In the distance, thunder cracks. Residents are trying to get shelter from the budding storm.

For her, there’s no damn shelter.

His glitching is erratic, one moment he’s beside her, the next moment he’s pacing in front of her, as if he’s going to make her move _faster_. “Let’s delta, V, _come on_.”

“You really need to calm the fuck down,” she repeats, her voice snapping as she shoves past a couple making out in front of the elevator. She jabs the button for her floor, and leans against the wall, the blood still pooling around her fingers. “Not that bad of a wound.”

“Bullshit, V,” he practically yells in her face, eyes hidden behind aviators, bullet-proof vest on. She catches onto the gesture immediately but doesn’t bother to react to it.

She stumbles out of the elevator, past Coach and Wilson, past anyone else who might try to stop her, and gets her door open.

Johnny glitches into the apartment, pacing around with a cigarette between his lips. “Gotta fix yourself up.” He’s still nervous. Anxious. Something deeper that is swimming against the current of his emotions, something she can’t quite pick out.

Her anger wins out.

“ _Shut the fuck up_!”

Finding the first aid kit was easy, stumbling into the bathroom. She struggles to do everything one handed, and just pours the contents of the box onto the floor. V takes a step back to secure herself to the wall as she uses it to give her leverage as she slides down it to the floor.

Johnny glitches in front of her, kneeling to watch, silent. She can still feel his frustration, but he decides not to press her further.

A smart move.

“Fucking wish you could help me,” She mutters, as she brings a package of gauze to her mouth and tears it open with her teeth, keeping her other hand on her chest.

He moves closer to her, and she feels his fingers curl around her wrist. Then in one quick movement, he moves her hand off the wound and applies his own pressure to it with his metal hand. She forgets, in the moment, that he can’t touch anything _other_ than her.

She hisses out but swallows the rest of the sound down. His action frees up her hand, preparing what she needs to clean it. He only moves his hand when she nods, and she cleans the wound as she tries to hold back her screaming.

When most of the blood is washed away, she tries to get a better look.

He does it for her, taking off his glasses as he leans in. “Bullet’s still there. Need to dig it out.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she sighs out, and grabs any tool she can find to dig it out – she settles on tweezers. “Gonna…gonna need you to hold your aviators out,” she tells him, “to use the reflection.”

He can’t grab a mirror for her, after all, and she can’t get back up, so it’s going to have to do. He angles the glasses so she can see the wound and where the bullet is. It’s not too deep, but it’s still going to hurt like a fucking bitch. She takes a deep breath and holds the tweezers to the wound and starts to dig. He’s deathly silent through all of it, and if he wasn’t right in front of her, touching her, it would have been as if she was alone.

His hand moves to her thigh as a way to ground her, and he squeezes tight on it so she can focus on _that_ feeling and not the feeling she has of digging the metal out of her skin.

When she finally feels she has a good grip around it, she pulls, and the bullet pops out with a wet suction sound. It falls to the floor with a clink.

Johnny glitches his aviators away, but his other hand goes to her other thigh, the pressure firmly applied to both as she works to clean the blood and gets the thread.

She can still feel his panic, though it’s starting to recede a bit. She’s running on pure adrenaline now, as she threads the wound closed, and bandages it up. When she’s done, she inhales a MaxDoc and closes her eyes.

Johnny’s hands are still on her thigh, and as the inhaler does its work, something hard comes up her throat. His emotions are shifting rapidly, in tune with the thunder outside getting closer.

A storm was coming.

She wondered if it was already here.

But the pressure from her thighs disappears, and when she opens her eyes, he’s gone. The sudden disappearance brings something sharp to her lungs, as she inhales sharply to fight against it. She swallows the sound down, as she struggles to push herself off the bathroom floor and starts to try to get out of the rest of her bloody clothes.

Thunder cracks again, and as she steps out into the living room, the lights flicker on and off. Before they turn off all together, the sound of everything powering down as the building loses power. There’s no hum of electronics, there’s nothing but the storm building outside, the thunder getting louder and closer.

A string of curses escapes her as she fumbles around in the dark and goes towards her window. She can’t remember the last time that she’s looked out the window to the city and saw it completely dark. For the first time in years, she can see the stars and clouds through her window.

But the clouds are building, taking over most of the moonlight.

With the limited light she has left, she slowly tries to peel off her shirt, but hisses at pain of moving her arm.

Behind her, she feels a hand on her back. She didn’t know he had come back into the apartment and found it hard to breathe as he moved around her, his hand a constant as he moved to her front. His hand dragged from her back to her side, to her stomach as he stopped in front of her.

He doesn’t make a sound, his hands moving to the bottom button of her blouse she had chosen to wear for the gig. Each button is slowly undone, he moves up each one carefully, and when he gets to the buttons at her cleavage, his fingers brush against her breasts ever so gently. She takes a breath in; doesn’t realize she’s holding it as she stares at him. His eyes are focused on her shirt, on the swell of her breasts, her breathing hitches as he undoes the last button.

Johnny moves his fingers to her hurt shoulder, the fabric already mostly torn from her little medical procedure earlier, and he peels the soaked fabric off her skin before he tears the rest of it. It eases away from her shoulder then, as he pushes it off of her and lets it fall to the floor.

There is a heat of desire that is building within her, and she doesn’t dare move. She barely allows herself to breathe, as his eyes finally meet hers.

His dark eyes, that she meets in the moonlight, nothing between them.

But she doesn’t move. She’s terrified to move.

And he still doesn’t make a sound.

She watches him swallow down air, clearing his throat. His metal fingers twitch as he reaches for her, gently moving her bra strap down away from her wounded shoulder. He’s careful, meticulous as he does it, gentler than she expects.

It starts to rain outside, thunder getting closer. Lightning following.

His fingers move to her other strap, but he stops.

Instead, she moves. She moves her fingers to the hem of his tank top, and lifts it with one hand, though he ends up helping her in taking it off. It’s discarded to the ground with hers, looking almost solid beneath them.

She uses her good arm to reach behind and undo the clasp of her bra, as she finally allows it to fall down her arms and off of her.

He swallows hard as he looks at her – she knows he’s seen her naked before. But having him look at her like this, it puts her on edge. She has the sudden desire to cover herself up.

He catches onto that thought quickly, and his reply is to reach for her, his metal thumb sliding over one of her nipples, before he kisses her neck.

She arches against the action, steps towards him, as he wraps his other arm around her middle. He moves his metal hand to the back of her head, and she presses her chest against his.

He feels so warm, incredibly warm and solid beneath her skin; she feels him groan against her neck.

The rain starts to fall faster, the thunder sounds as if it’s right in her ear.

He lifts his lips from her neck, and his eyes meet hers. She wonders if he’s considering backing down. This is a line that hasn’t been crossed, but the moment it is, she’s not sure if she can go back. She doesn’t _want_ to go back. The threat of heartbreak is so loud in her ears, the thought pushing towards him before she can stop it. She wants him. She’s wanted him for a long time.

She starts to say his name, but doesn’t get to finish.

His lips are on hers, and a dam breaks. His emotions blend and bleed with hers, amplifying what she feels, what she wants. His beard is rough against her skin, he kisses her slowly at first before the kiss deepens, and with it she parts her lips against his. He pulls her tight against her, skin on skin, but careful of her shoulder.

His tongue dances against hers, as she can feel everything building. Everything ascends, and before she can stop herself she’s moaning into the kiss. She grinds against him, and he growls against her lips – a warning. Maybe just a kiss was a line. But past that?

There’s no happy ending for either of them.

All that remains for them is now.

The storm raging outside doesn’t come close to the storm that is finally breaking inside, as the line is crossed. As he picks her up and carries her to the bed. As the clothing is discarded and he kisses his way down her chest to find himself between her thighs. As she gasps out as she feels his mouth on her.

The rain pounds against the window loudly, the thunder cracks every ten minutes, the lighting lights up the room with each hit.

Everything is building, he devours her and swallows her whole, and she needs nothing more than this. But as she cries out, he moves up from her thighs and kisses his way back up to her. His fingers replace where his mouth had been, sinking into her as he catches her mouth with his. A gasp into the kiss is swallowed by him, and she can feel how incredibly hard he is against her thigh.

The only sounds he makes are sinful, and her only replies are to echo them into the apartment, her cries bouncing off the thunder of the storm outside. 

When he finally moves to rest between her thighs, when he lines himself up with her, there is a moment. He hovers over her, like he’s waiting for her approval. She feels what he feels, knowing that there really is no turning back now.

She’s his. Until death parts them.

Her reply to him is to pull him down for a kiss, to tell him that she’s with him until the end, and that’s all he needs.

They both moan out in unison as he fills her completely, and she moves to wrap her legs around him. He starts to slowly fuck her into the mattress, and she matches his movements. They move in unison, and her shoulder is burning, and her heart is pounding, and all she is and needs is him. He picks the pace up, she matches him, they move like one; it’s not a connection she wants to lose.

Everything is building.

Everything is ascending.

Her heartbeat is so incredibly loud.

When it happens, it’s like an explosion, and it’s almost timed with another loud crack outside the window. She screams out his name, arching up into him, her fingers digging into his organic arm, holding onto him as he fucks her through her orgasm.

He comes with swears and other obscene sounds, with her name the last word he says before he’s spent.

It’s a moment before he moves from her. She knows he could glitch away from her, but he doesn’t, and it feels so _normal_ that it almost makes her want to cry. There’s an overwhelming emotion that is washing over her, and she realizes this is the feeling that was running deep under the current of his own emotions earlier.

Now it’s at the surface, pulling both of them through the storm and to each other, and there’s a tightness around her heart. She knows he feels it too, as he turns to look at her. As he moves his hand into hers and raises it to his lips tenderly.

She doesn’t want to name it. He’s terrified at the idea of naming it. Instead, he helps her to the shower, to try to clean up in the dark. He’s tender with her, softly touching, cleaning her wound with her and helping her rebandage it after in the moonlight.

A sound of electricity bursts, and the lights flicker before they turn back on, and it’s then that she can really see him. Naked in the light of the apartment in front of her, not cast in shadows, and she thinks he looks even more real now.

Her hand goes into his as he guides her out of the bathroom and back into the main area.

She looks at him for a moment, before she turns to the wall and turns the lights back off.

He kisses her then, the kiss only breaking to pick her up into his arms, to carry her back to the bed.

The storm passes, but it’s only a matter of time before the next one; a fact they both know with each passing day. But he whispers into her ear words only meant for her, each word slowly unraveling her, until there is nothing left but here and now.

And she moves against him, curling up into him, his arms over her protectively as if to keep any pending threat away. To hide away from the outside world.

The end will come tomorrow, and when it happens, it won’t make a sound. And his heartbreak will be so incredibly loud.


End file.
